


In Our Fifth Year

by onceuponatimetheend



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponatimetheend/pseuds/onceuponatimetheend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are best friends. They've been best friends since first year. But this year O.W.L.S loom overhead and Dean is forced to confront his long-held feelings of failure as well as a few other things that he may have been ignoring--in regards to his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ongoing series. Will post new chapters about twice a month on here as well as on tumblr. You can follow me on [my tumblr](http://www.once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com) for new updates or on here (i think it's subscriptions though?) either works. 
> 
> Also, check out the original tumblr posts for this work [here](http://once-upon-a-time-the-end.tumblr.com/post/60331727208/sweats-nervously-i-said-awhile-ago-that-i-was) 
> 
> All art is created by me c:
> 
> Comments are very welcome! c:

****  


**September 1 st.**

 

A black ’67 Chevy Impala skittered to a halt with an aching groan ten minutes to eleven in front of King’s Cross station. A fifteen year old boy, Dean Winchester, jumped out of the passenger seat with a loud, “ _Jesus,_ Dad, cutting it close this year aren’t we?”

 

His younger brother, Sam, quickly followed Dean to the back and helped him pull out their identical rustic brown trunks along with a pair of smaller suitcases. Their father, John Winchester, looking harassed and uncomfortable, already had the owls—a cage in each hand. Dean slammed the trunk and then they were shoving their way into the station and through the tumultuous late morning crowd.

 

They heard several other protesting squawks amidst the thundering din and they knew they weren’t the only ones cutting it close. Quickly, they passed nine platforms and came upon the seemingly solid brick wall. A young girl, younger than Sam even, was ushered by her mother right through the barrier, disappearing from sight.

 

“Sam, you first,” Dean urged.

 

Sam disappeared within seconds and soon after Dean and his father followed through. Completely different from the station before, this one looks shiny and pristine with gold-laced windows and a single, red and black train on the tracks. There was a huge crowd on platform nine and three-quarters—filled with last minute arrivals and the multitude of parents, some teary-eyed and nervous and some just waving off their children before _—pop—_ disapparating out of the station.

 

“Come on.” Dean pushed his brother forward. They had their luggage and owls quickly dispatched to one of the back carts and then they were boarding the train.

 

Just as Dean was about to step on, his father stopped him. He looked back with a nervous frown. “Yeah, Dad?”

 

John looked even more uncomfortable. He’d never gotten used to it—magic, that is. Their mother was a witch and had died in a fire before she actually got around to telling their father. Dean often wondered if maybe their mother hadn’t died, John would be more open about the whole thing. As it is, they hardly mentioned it only to talk about when school was starting and when they’d have to get their books.

 

“Look, uh,” John said, glancing around, “I know this year is that big test year so…” He shrugged, “Your mother would’ve wanted you to work hard.”

 

Dean nodded, back stiffening. “Thanks, Dad. Um, don’t drink too much?”

 

John rolled his eyes and shoved his son into the train.

 

“What was that all about?” Sam asked once Dean was following down the train to find an empty compartment.

 

“He wanted to tell me to nut up about my O.W.L.s. Did you tell him about that?”

 

Sam smiled. “Yep. You need a kick in the butt, Dean.”

 

They found an empty compartment and settled down inside, shoving their carry-on suitcases in the overhead shelf.

 

“You should focus on your own schooling. Second year is pretty tough,” Dean warned.

 

Sam ignored him, preferring to open up one of his books— _History of Magic_ no less. “I also told Cas about your little fantasy about being one of those wizard cops I hope you don’t mind.” And then the train was rolling forward, picking up speed, and rocketing down the tracks. 

 

Dean blanched. “You told Cas _what?”_

 

Suddenly the compartment door slid open and—speak of the devil—there stood Castiel. A tall, lean boy with messy black hair and piercing blue eyes—and who was also Dean’s best friend. “Hello, Dean,” he said simply before plopping down next to him.

 

“Cas!” Dean grinned from ear to ear—not even caring about the last two minutes of his life. He hooked an arm around Cas’ neck, pulled him close to his side, ruffled his hair, and then let him go.

 

Dean felt his cheeks flush with excitement as he got a really good look at his best friend. And he did look good. His face was a lot more chiseled out this year but he was still as tall and lean as ever. Maybe a bit more muscle this year, though; he _had_ written about how he practiced a lot this summer for Quidditch, determined to beat the other houses this time. And damn, it looked good on him. The only work out Dean got was working in his father’s automobile shop, fixing up muggle cars. And although Dean would never in a million years fly a broomstick, he had to admit that practicing for Quidditch was probably more exciting.

 

In any case, Cas _looked good._ Really good. And his stomach did a little back flip— _that’s new_ —every time they caught each other’s eye.

 

Cas let a small smile curve his lips before patting down his hair—which actually did nothing. “I didn’t see you on the platform. I thought we were going to meet there.”

 

“Oh yeah, we were running late. Sorry.” Dean smiled apologetically and then brightened. He got up opened his suitcase above his head. “I almost forgot. We didn’t get to see each other this summer like we wanted, so instead I got you a present.”

 

“You’re going to love it,” Sam added from behind his book. “Shows how much a nerd Dean is.”

 

“Shut up, Sammy.” Dean reached around and latched onto a long cardboard box. He quickly passed it into Cas’ hands. He bit his lip expectantly and discreetly wiped his palms on his jeans. Why was he so damn nervous?

 

Cas carefully opened the wrapping and slid it off to reveal a blue box with a plastic window showing a metal-looking wand of some sorts. “What is it?” Cas asked.

 

“Open it,” Dean insisted.

 

Cas painstakingly got the thing out of the box—damn packaging—and then it was in his hand. Sam slowly peeked over his book with a sly smile and watched as Cas turned over the metallic wand in his hand. It was silver, mostly, with blue accents and a bright blue tip that looked like a bulb. He found a spot that looked like a button and he pressed it. The tip lit up with a loud zinging sound. Cas, shocked, let the thing topple from his grasp. It clattered onto the train floor with Dean and Sam laughing wildly.

 

“What _is_ it?” Cas exclaimed, turning wide blue eyes onto Dean.

 

Dean, doubled over laughing, picked it back up. “It’s a sonic screwdriver,” he said when he finally controlled his breathing and collapsed back into the seat. “From the television show, _Doctor Who.”_  

 

“Muggle TV,” Cas muttered, eyes bright again. He gingerly took the sonic screwdriver back into his hands and turned it around again, marveling. “Amazing. And it just—lights up?” It zinged in his hands as he pointed the light around the train cart.

 

Dean grinned. “Well, in the show, the Doctor—that’s the main character—uses it for different things. Like, it’ll fix things with the sonic power or analyze situations. That kind of thing. It’s sort of like a wand—except it doesn’t blast anything and it can’t hurt anyone.”

 

Cas smiled then, happily pushing the button just to hear the noise.

 

“So?” Dean pressed.

 

“I love it. Thank you.”

 

Dean’s cheeks colored a bit and he scratched the back of his neck. “Well…you’re welcome.”

 

Later, when the three of them had finished talking about all they did that summer, changed into their respective uniforms, and Dean had settled comfortably on the seat with his legs propped up over Cas’, the trolley came around. Cas grinned, slipped out from under Dean’s legs, and came back a second later with a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

 

“Here,” Cas said, extending the box to Dean, “I know you like these.”

 

“You don’t—”

 

Cas waved the sonic screwdriver.

 

“Okay then.”

 

They settled back, the train rumbling easily around them. Sam just shook his head behind his book, holding it up higher so the two couldn’t see his smirk. Dean smiled, oblivious to everything but the jelly beans in his hand and the fluttering in his chest. He picked a bean out of the box and popped it into his mouth. He grinned. “Apple pie.”


	2. Chapter 2

****   


**A Trip To Hogsmeade**

 

Dean spooned his porridge in circles with a set frown on his face. Next to him, a fourth year, Charlie, was saying something but it blurred into the general breakfast clamor of the Great Hall.

 

Two fingers snapped in his face and he blinked. A redheaded girl with cerulean eyes and bobbing death star earrings came into focus. Charlie settled back with a raised brow. “You didn’t hear what I said did you?”

 

“Sorry,” Dean quickly apologized, “what?”

 

Charlie shrugged. “Just about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip this weekend. But—look—are you okay?”

 

Dean pushed his porridge away, running a hand through his hair and coming down to touch his tie. Dean actually liked being a Hufflepuff. Everyone said they weren’t too bright or they were too soft or they didn’t have any ambition—but Dean didn’t believe any of that. He’d met some great friends in this house. Particularly Charlie—though she was in a year below—she was as loyal a friend as could be. She was muggle-born, so she came from his world. Though half-blooded on his mother’s side, Dean grew up there and it was great to have a friend that understood that. It was loyalty that mattered. And Hufflepuffs had that more than any other house. So he knew he owed Charlie the same and didn’t want to cut her out.  “The only class I’m good at is Defense Against the Dark Arts. How the hell am I supposed to get any O.W.L.s this year if I can’t friggin’ get anything right?”

 

“Dean,” Charlie took him by the shoulder and forced him to look at her, “you’ve done well the last four years. It’s going to be the same this year.” She smiled reassuringly and Dean wanted to believe it so badly. He wanted to believe that he _was_ good enough.

 

“I barely skated by the last four years. Passing marks okay?” Dean put his chin in his hand, a pout on his lips.

 

“Give yourself more credit, will ya? You’re smarter than you think.” When her words didn’t penetrate his gloom she said, “Well if you’re so worried, then ask Castiel. He’s the best out of the Ravenclaws, for sure—and possibly the best in our whole year. Meg is pretty good competition, but she’s one of those not very trustworthy Slytherins. Where is Castiel anyway?”

 

“He’s—” Dean didn’t get a chance to reply; at that moment a fourth year from the Gryffindor table—blonde, brown-eyed, and with a cool sense of confidence—bounded up.

 

“Hey, Charlie, ready for Herbology?” Jo asked and then added with a quick wave, “Hey, Dean.”

 

Dean only looked through the corner of his eye. “Hey.”

 

Jo rolled her eyes. “Careful, your face is going to stay in permanent frown if you keep it up.” It was times like this when Dean appreciated her sorting. She was fearless like a lioness. So fearless that she didn’t mind taking the piss out of Dean whenever she pleased.

 

“Go to class, kid,” he barked.

 

Jo flashed out her tongue, tugging Charlie away. But Charlie spotted something that turned away her attention. “Oh there he is,” Charlie pointed to someone behind him.

 

Jo tugged her again. “Come on, leave Dean with his boyfriend.”

 

Charlie snorted and quickly leaned into Dean’s space to say, “Just suck it up and ask him okay? It can’t hurt.” And then with a final tug she was whisked away to a class where dangerous plant life and the ethics of children caring for them were pretty much mutually exclusive. But then again, that was life at Hogwarts.

 

Cas slid onto the bench next to Dean. “Hello, Dean.” He paused, blue eyes striking him with a curious look. “Is there something wrong?”

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Dean assured, turning full-body to face him. “What’s up, Cas?”

 

“We…have Charms this morning.”

 

“Oh, right.” Dean realized then that most of the Great Hall was already scarce of life. Only a few Hufflepuffs left at his table, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws were already gone—including his brother and his friends—and the only group left at the Slytherin table was a round of fifth years laughing and jeering about something that was probably actually not funny at all. “Almost forgot,” he mumbled, turning eyes back to his uneaten porridge. He was going to regret not eating this morning but he just had no appetite.

 

“You seem preoccupied,” Cas noted, moving to catch Dean’s shifting gaze. He inched closer, forcing Dean’s attention.

 

If loyalty was so important why couldn’t he just tell Cas? _Hey, man, I’m struggling. Can you help me study? I want to be an Auror._ But Cas already knew that didn’t he? Dean cursed his little brother mentally….and yet. Cas never mentioned it. He could have. There were plenty of opportunities since the start of term a few weeks ago. They’d studied in the library plenty, eaten together almost every lunch and dinner (breakfast was trickier neither of them managed to get up at quite the same time mostly because Cas was a major grump and preferred to sleep in as much as he could), and they even shared most of their classes. So Dean vaguely wondered why Cas never pushed the subject; he had to know it was important and was probably the reason for Dean’s general air of glumness. Dean never brought it up either, though, and was a bit glad that Cas didn’t. So…stalemate?

 

There was still the question of _why_ Dean couldn’t just _ask_ Cas for help. Dean fiddled absently with the cuff of his sleeve and then hastily scrambled out of the bench. “Come on, Cas, we’re going to be late.”

 

Cas gripped onto Dean’s wrist to help himself up and—yep—there it was. The answer. The strange jump in his chest and the flush of his skin whenever Cas was this close. A recent development since the start of term and one that plagued every second they spent together.

 

“Dean, I…” Cas began as they started off and as Dean tried to control his bodily reactions. He sighed, squinting off down the corridor.  

 

Dean waited for him to continue, but Cas didn’t. Instead he absently observed the trophies in the cases they passed. Dean wracked his brain for _something_ but couldn’t.

 

Together they began up a set of stairs and then rounded a corner through an archway manned by a pair of knights and then set off another corridor lined on the left side with a set of thatched windows exposing a wide expanse of fresh green hills lined by the forbidden forest in the distance.

 

“There is a trip this weekend. To Hogsmeade,” Cas said suddenly.

 

Dean perked up, a smile waiting on his lips. “Yeah, Charlie was telling me.”

 

“Do you…want to go?”

 

“Well yeah I was wanting to get some of those chocolate frogs. There are still some cards I have to collect.”

 

“Right,” Cas smiled, shyly blinking up at him. “And then we could get butterbear at The Three Broomsticks or something.”

 

Dean eyed his friend. This was the guy that did a nosedive at three hundred feet in the air—in the pouring, torrential rain no less—to catch the golden snitch in the game against Hufflepuff last year. This was the guy who was completely fearless in the face of Professor Crowley the most evil teacher to walk the halls (sent from Hell itself in Dean’s opinion). And this was the guy who once jumped in front of a nasty hex (from Alastair and his little gang of demons) to save Dean ending up hospitalized for a week looking an inhuman shade of purple with a side of caterpillars. And even then he did his usual dead-pan joking saying that if only he could hold ‘em in longer they’d be butterflies. So why was he acting all shy and bashful all of the sudden?

 

“Uh, okay,” Dean agreed, still unsure what was going on and why Cas felt the need to ask him—they were best friends for Christ’s sake; if he wanted to, Cas would just zap them both over because he wanted to no questions needed. “So…Saturday?”

 

“Yeah,” Cas smiled a shaky smile, relief written all over his face. “Saturday.”

 

Saturday.

 

“Will you get me some Sugar Quills? Oh and I really want some Acid Pops. And if you can, a Pumpkin Fizz. And maybe something from Zonko’s? I don’t care anything really.” Sam stopped just at the queue for the Hogsmeade trip, face anxious and excited. He was still a year from being able to go himself but that didn’t stop him from demanding half the trove of Honeydukes in one breath.

 

Dean fiddled with the galleons in his pocket. “I’ll see what I can do,” he enunciated, looking putout.

 

Sam gave him the puppy look.

 

Dean bit his lip, twisting around, making him sweat.

 

“Pleeeasseee?” Sam begged.

 

Charlie appeared next to him, and shoved his arm. “Come on, Dean, don’t give your brother such a hard time.”

 

“Alright, alright. Maybe I can spare a few coins.”

 

“Sweet!” Sam fist-pumped the air and then took off.

 

“That kid really has a sweet tooth. Why do you make me encourage him?”

 

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Look who’s talking.” She tucked her hair around her shoulder. “They’re going to start checking slips soon. Where’s Castiel?” The question would have been innocent had she not accompanied it by a suggestive waggle of eyebrows.

 

Dean shifted from foot to foot. “What? How should I know?” He felt a little light-headed remembering Castiel and their “plans”. But where was he anyhow?

 

At the front of the queue, Professor Fitzgerald shouted out for approval slips. A couple of Slytherins shoved past Dean and Charlie to the front to join their friends. And behind them was Jo who quickly smiled and stopped next to Charlie. The line started moving almost immediately and Cas was still nowhere in sight.

 

“We should go to Madam Puddifoot’s. I hear they have great tea. And then I want to go check out Zonko’s—see what cool explosives they have in stock this time around.” Jo winked.

 

“Only Zonko’s if we can go to Dervish and Banges.”

 

“What so you can go on about ‘Wizarding Technology’?”

“Well it _is._ Besides, I give up the Internet for most of the year for this I might as well get some cool tech out of it.”

 

“Yeah but you love it.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Dean started to tune out their conversation as they got to the front of the queue. He glanced around restlessly, fidgeting with the coins in one pocket and his slip in the other. Where was Cas?

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

Dean yelped and flew practically ten feet off the ground. “C- _Cas.”_ When his heart settled into its normal rhythm (normal for when he was around Cas these days). “How many times have I told you not to do that.”

 

“Sorry.” Cas mussed his already mussed, dark hair as they stepped up to Professor Fitzgerald to present their slips. He quickly ushered them past and into the rest of the line of students on the way to Hogsmeade. There was a chill in the cool morning air as they crossed the grounds and Cas breathed it in, a little spring in his step.

 

And that was when Dean noticed what Cas was wearing. His nicest sweater and his nicest slacks, his Ravenclaw tie neater than Dean had ever seen it. Dean prodded the tie. “Who helped you get dressed?”

 

Cas frowned. “What?”

 

Dean snorted. “Dude. Your tie is perfect.”

 

“It’s always perfect,” Cas replied defensively.

 

Dean just shook his head. “Come on, dude. I gotta get some sweets for Sam.”

 

Upper Street was busy this Saturday morning. Local witches and wizards in their billowing cloaks filling up the streets and the shops and emptying their coin purses just as quickly. The students, third years and up, were filing into the growing crowds. First stop for Dean and Cas was Honeydukes—the sweet shop that was already heavy with the influx of chattering students.

 

“He said he wanted some of these,” Dean bagged a couple Sugar Quills while Cas idly trailed behind him. “Oh and these.” Dean added more candy to his bag. “But you think he’ll like these?”

 

Cas shrugged at the round orange pop in his hand.

 

“Eh, maybe. I’ll throw it in.” Dean loaded up with more candy than was clearly asked. “You want anything, Cas?”

 

Cas smiled and shook his head no.

 

Next stop: Zonko’s.

 

“What does he want here?” Cas asked, leaning against the nearest wall as Dean scoured the shelves of bobbing wonders and whizzing lights for _something._

 

“Anything. But I think…he’ll appreciate this.” Dean came back with a book.

 

“What’s it do?” Cas asked, looking at it curiously.

 

“It’s a book,” Dean held it out to Cas and flipped it open, “that reads you.”

 

The clear white page was still for a beat and then came to life with words streaking across. Cas blinked and then colored a bright red. He let out a tiny “oh” and then hastily shut the book.

 

“What’d it say?” Dean prodded.

 

Cas coughed. “Nothing important.”

 

Dean chuckled. “It’s actually pretty rude. It told me that I was dumber than I looked and that ‘I couldn’t even read today’s date’. How weird is that?” Dean shook his head. “Sam is going to love it.”

 

He quickly paid and then the two were off down the road again, this time to The Three Broomsticks. The low-lit pub was already half filled with Hogwarts students and a few locals. Dean procured them his favorite table—one in the back corner where he had a good view of everything and nothing could sneak up on him—while Cas procured the butterbeer. His treat, he insisted. The wooden table was a bit creaky and leaned a little to the left but the bench was warmer here and the dull red cushions were less used. Cas slid in next to him, passing him a mug.

 

“Dean,” he began very importantly, “you said this thing has many uses.” He pulled out of his pocket the sonic screwdriver Dean had given him on the train. “On the muggle television. What kind of uses _exactly_?”

 

Dean sipped his drink and shrugged. “Anything really. Except for wood. It doesn’t do wood.”

 

Cas narrowed his eyes. “I don’t understand.”

 

“Nobody does.” Cas huffed, slouching into the bench. Dean raised a brow and then chuckled. “Alright, alright. Okay you know those dishes on the muggle rooftops?”

 

“You’ve told me about them. Satellite. It brings muggle TV. And there are crafts in space and things.”

 

“Yeah. Like that. It sends signals. The sonic screwdriver can block, change, or fix those signals if they were messed up. It’s the kind of tool you’d want to have with muggle technology. It’s like science. Well, more like science fiction but you get my meaning.”

 

Cas frowned and stared intently at the screwdriver. “I think I understand,” he finally said in all seriousness.

 

Dean shook his head with a fond smile. Cas was a big fat liar but whatever. “The important thing,” Dean said after a gulp of butterbeer, “it’s used to help people.”

 

“Speaking of,” Cas mumbled.

 

“What?”

 

Cas gave him the most patronizing look. “Dean. It’s been weeks.”

 

Dean had the sudden overwhelming feeling they were talking about his worst nightmare but it was still pretty vague so he swallowed down the wad of nerves in his throat and put on an innocent look.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Cas frowned and sat closer. “Dean. We study together all the time it’s not a problem if you need help.”

 

Dean flushed a bright red. “W-what?” Panic settled into his gut, thrumming tightly into his veins but not quite on the surface yet.

 

“I wanted you to ask me yourself but…this is actually getting quite ridiculous. If you want to be an Auror—”

 

“I don’t.” Dean stood up. He felt a shaking in the waving of his skin and a heat in his face. Like he was breaking apart under this scrutiny, this exposition of his inner thoughts. “I don’t. I—” He let out a shaky breath, looking to the ceiling. Suddenly the low light, the crowded atmosphere, and the too loud chatting swam through his senses. Dean shook his head and pushed his way to the exit. Cool late morning air hit his forehead and he breathed a sigh of relief.

 

Cas was next to him in a second. This time he expected it. Scuffling his shoe in the grassy earth he said, “Cas, the only the people who get there are the best.” He looked up into Cas’ blue eyes. “It doesn’t matter if you help me. I’m just not good enough.”

 

“Dean.” A simple response but gruff and low with his eyes hooded and glaring, and Dean realized Cas was _angry._

 

Dean blew air through his nose, shoved his hands in his pockets, and tipped back until he was supported by the pub’s wall. But Cas was having none of it. He shoved Dean hard.

 

“Hey—what was that for?”

 

Cas glared. “You’re such an ass.”

 

Dean’s breath hitched. His eyes widened but he did nothing to retaliate. Cas huffed and this time it was his turn to prop up the wall. Slowly the pout on his lips smoothed out and the anger in his eyes softened into tired frustration and an underlying current of resolve.

 

“I’m going to help you, Dean.” That was it. He pitched off the wall and then started off down the road.

 

Dean clenched his fists and trotted after Cas. “ _Cas_.”

 

Cas turned back with a glare.

 

Dean and Cas stood there for a minute just glaring at each other until finally Dean straightened, shaking his head. Cas quickly did the same, his expression smoothing out into its usual expression of unfathomableness.

 

“Sorry.” Cas was the first to say it.

 

Dean snorted. “ _I’m_ sorry.” Cas was his best friend. He more than deserved Dean’s trust and confidence. And he felt bad for being so stubborn and prideful to begin with. He walked over and slung an arm over Cas’ shoulders. “Fighting isn’t cool.”

 

Cas rolled his eyes but put a warm arm lightly on Dean’s waist. “I am going to help you, Dean. Whether you like it or not.” He picked the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket and shined it in Dean’s face as they started again down the road.

 

“Hey what are you doing?” Dean tried to swat it away.

 

“Trying to send muggle signals to your brain.”

 

“Cas it doesn’t—hey!”

 

“I _will_ help you.”

 

“Okay, okay! I get it. Just stop.”

 

Cas chuckled. “Good.”

 

Dean felt lighter then. The gloom on his shoulders had lifted and he wondered why he never just _asked_ Cas to begin with. Sure, he still wasn’t convinced that he _could_ do it. But it felt better to have Cas with him even if his heart did do little jumps whenever he was around.

 

“You know,” Dean said, shaking his bag of candy as they strolled down the road. “I’m starved.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

**Secrets, Spells, and the Slytherin Team**

 

There was a game coming up and the Slytherins were more annoying than usual. Well, at least a certain group of them were.

 

The group—often fondly called the Demons—was manned by two boys, Alastair and Azazel and three girls. The boys, for their part, were twins. Well, not biologically, but they might as well have been. Both of the boys were dark haired, had minimal bulk on their bones, and had a dangerously malicious smile on their lips. However, Azazel did stick out from his close friend (or enemy that wasn’t clear) in one regard: his eyes, which were a sickening yellow-gold and caused a widespread murmuring on pureblood inbreeding.

 

The girls were a bit more interesting and diverse and consisted of: Meg, resident genius; Ruby, the one that needed to be watched out for; and Bela, the thief (nothing was ever proven however). All three of these young ladies also happened to be on the quidditch team. Meg and Ruby were both beaters and Bela was the seeker.

 

The game this weekend was between Slytherin and Hufflepuff. So, while Castiel—the Ravenclaw seeker—wasn’t _directly_ involved in this game, the three ladies and their male cohorts took it upon themselves to pay a visit to the boy who managed, last year, to crush Slytherin’s chance at the final with Gryffindor—even if Ravenclaw, last year, didn’t end up winning the cup anyway. Besides, the Hufflepuff keeper was in Castiel’s circle of friends so it was adjacently in their interest.

 

“Castiel,” Meg murmured, sliding up on the Hufflepuff table with a wicked grin on her lips.

 

“Meg,” Cas replied firmly but politely.

 

Meg smiled and stretched her arms behind him on the table as Bela and the others circled around, surrounding their little group that spanned a space between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Charlie shifted uncomfortably in her seat while Dean and Jo just glared. At the other end, Sam and Jessica—a young second year and one of Sam’s friends—looked on warily as Ruby took an uncomfortable place next to them.

 

“Game this Saturday,” Meg announced, checking her perfectly manicured nails. “You going to be there?”

 

“Yes,” Cas said slowly.

 

Meg smiled and then turned her head toward Charlie. “Better keep a sharp eye out, kid.”

 

“You never know what could happen,” Ruby added.

 

Charlie visibly swallowed.

 

“Oh, let’s not play with our food,” Bela interjected with an even more dangerous look, “she should know that we’re going to crush them.”

 

Near Dean, Azazel and Alastair snickered. Dean’s gaze moved from glaring at Meg’s arm behind Cas to glaring at the boys.

 

“Bela’s right,” Meg said, “No use dancing around the truth. We’re going to crush you.” Her hand slipped up to brush against Cas’ hair, and with a flash of her teeth and a bounce of her dark curls, she stood up. The others stood with her almost immediately. “And when we do, we’ll be one step closer to having a rematch, Cassie. And this time we won’t lose.”

 

And just as quickly, the Demons were gone.

 

Cas’ lips pursed slightly but that was the only sign of anything amiss. Charlie let out a breath. Dean clenched his fists. Sam and Jess kind of looked at each other worriedly.

 

Jo was the only one that rolled her eyes. “Those guys are really dramatic.”

 

“They’re assholes,” Dean corrected.

 

“Assholes? Totally. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t ridiculously melodramatic.”

 

“Was anyone else scared?” Charlie asked, hand high and voice higher. She tried to turn the question light with a nervous sort of smile and nod but she just withered a second later. “Because yeah I was freaked a bit. You know. Just me. The keeper. Who has to keep. On Saturday.”

 

“Charlie, you’re going to do fine,” Dean said.

 

“Really? Because last year one of the chasers on my team was hospitalized. Not even to mention the fact that Cas was nearly thrown off his broom last year by them. And maybe if you had taken your eyes off Meg’s arm for two seconds you would’ve seen the look on their faces, okay. They mean a whole other level of business that I am not equipped to handle.”

 

“Charlie,” Cas said sternly. “If they break the rules they’re banned from the games. They can’t do anything worse than what’s allowed. And even then you’re a good keeper. You can handle it.”

 

Charlie sort of laughed both nervously and sarcastically. “Really? Wow. I know you’ve grown up in this world, Cas, so it seems totally normal to you, but news flash! This is one hell of a dangerous sport. And I don’t think they care about rules.”

 

“Well then what are you going to do then?” Cas asked with a heavy look.

 

Charlie’s mouth shut tight. She sank back into the bench. “Play, I guess. Try not to get hit by a rogue bludger.”

 

Jo grinned. “Exactly. You can do it. We have total faith in you.”

 

Slytherin vs Hufflepuff

 

“Alright, alright. It’s going to be good.” Charlie took a breath, straightening her back as she stood up from the Hufflepuff table along with her fellow teammates. Those in the Great Hall were just beginning to get ready to march down to the field for the match, but the players were headed off first. Dean and Cas sat next to her on the bench each giving supportive looks. “This is just like that one time during Call of Duty—except totally not.” She grimaced and glanced back at the boys.

 

“Charlie, just—” Dean started, but was immediately cut off by Jo bounding in.

 

“Good luck on the game today,” Jo got out between breaths. “You’re going to kick ass.”

 

“I’m a keeper,” Charlie reminded.

 

“Well if those asses get close you kick them. Hard. So they fly into the other goal and those Slytherins wish they had never been born.” Jo grinned, gave Charlie and quick hug, and pushed her off to follow her team.

 

As soon as Charlie was gone, Jo rounded on Dean and Cas. “She wasn’t wrong. Those guys mean business.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked.

 

“The Slytherin team. I may have followed them around a couple times this week. Anyway, yesterday I caught Alastair and Azazel talking about something to do with the game. They didn’t say exactly what but it didn’t sound good.”

 

“What _exactly,_ ” Cas pressed, “did they say?”

 

Jo took a breath, glancing around. “Azazel asked if ‘it’ was ready for the game today and Alastair confirmed it. And then Azazel said they’d have a guaranteed win then.”

 

Cas looked troubled. “Odd. Hufflepuff has never been…the best team—sorry, Dean—so why would they take extra measures to stop them from winning?”

 

Jo shrugged. “Maybe they’re not taking any chances? You beat their team last year. And Ravenclaw hadn’t beat Slytherin in ages. Also, it might have something to do with the new Hufflepuff seeker. He’s good.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Dean commented. “Benny something. Sixth year, I think. He kind of came out of nowhere. Like this was the first time he tried out, and he made the team.”

 

“So hurt pride and a new seeker. They’re afraid,” Cas commented. “All that intimidating was just posturing then.”

 

“When isn’t it posturing?” Jo asked exasperatedly. “Besides, you two are missing the point. They’ve cooked up something probably awful and Charlie could be in danger.”

 

“The game starts in an hour,” Dean said, “Why didn’t you tell us this last night?”

 

“Because I heard it last night and I couldn’t tell you until now. So what are we going to do?”

 

Silence feel amongst the three of them, pressed heavily by Jo’s anxious urgency glaring down at them.

 

“It could be a thing or a spell,” Dean started.

 

“A spell more likely,” Cas continued, “A thing would cause attention. But if it were a spell then that must mean it was a very complicated one and it took time. Which means it’s already in place and there’s no way we can stop it. Our only hope would be…to observe and undo the spell before it does too much harm.”

 

“But how are we going to do that? If it took them time to put it together—and they’re in your year _and_ supposedly had Meg working on it too—then we’re totally screwed,” Jo pointed out. She clenched her jaw and stood a second thinking. “A complicated spell. They would need research.”

 

“Library,” Dean and Cas said in unison. They looked at each other and Dean felt a certain fondness there—for Cas _and_ the library. Sure library was more Sam’s area but after spending so much time there with Cas the last couple weeks he’d grown a bit attached.

 

Jo just narrowed her eyes at the both of them.

 

“We can’t be in two places at once though,” Cas said. “We can’t be watching the game and searching the library.”

 

Suddenly, Jo brightened. “I may have a solution.”

 

Twenty minutes later the three of them were huddled just down the corridor from the exit where all the students started bustling through to make their way down to the field. They stood by the large statue of Rowena Ravenclaw discussing plans.

 

“Okay these mirrors are linked,” Jo explained. “Charlie and I worked it out last year. It’s pretty complicated magic but we got it to work so we could talk to each other from our common rooms. Technically we’re not supposed to have these but we keep them in our rooms so no one finds out. So if you two get it confiscated I’m never going to forgive you.” Jo handed Cas one of the round, sliver-plated mirrors. They were fairly simple in design with just the back embossed with flowery metal work and a single blue gem in the center. “Alright so during the game I’ll watch and tell you if I see anything weird. You two search the library.”

 

Dean nodded and took a look at the mirror in Cas’ hand. “I guess we’re going to miss the game.” He sighed. “Keep an eye out, Jo.”

 

“Of course,” she replied with a raised brow. “My best friend is out there today.”

 

“Right.”

 

Jo split away from Cas and Dean then, quickly melding in with the rest of the crowd that headed down to the field. She had her red and gold scarf around her neck but a yellow flag with a badger on it in her hand, ready to wave and cheer Charlie on.

 

“Come on,” Dean urged, pulling Cas down the corridor.

 

It was empty in the castle aside from the stray student rushing down one of the many staircases to get to the game. But by the time they were in the west wing by the library it was empty and the only sounds came from the clack of their shoes on the cold stone floor and the occasional rambling of the bored looking paintings.

 

The library was a vast chamber filled from floor to ceiling with shelves upon shelves of books and the walls lined with stained glass windows of many a studious witch or wizard moving about in the frames. There were three floors with spiral staircases scattered around connecting them. Overhead, several shiny bridges joined the left and right sides, and right down the middle in front of them were carefully arranged mahogany desks each with their own lamps waiting patiently for darkness to need them. Other tables were around in quartered off sections of the library but out of the boys’ view.

 

Dean was suddenly impressed upon by the knowledge that this was going to be a very difficult task.

 

“Jo, are you there?” Cas held the glass up close to his face, squinting hard into his own reflection. After a moment, the glass shimmered and Jo’s face came into view. She was in the middle of a crowd of fellow students that cheered and shouted around her.

 

“Hey, Cas.” She glanced around. “The game is about to start. I don’t see anything weird. They’re just on the field. The captains are shaking hands.”

 

“Maybe start with books on quidditch?” Dean suggested.

 

Cas pursed his lips but nodded, following Dean through the towering shelves, twisting this way and that, until they found stuff on broomsticks and wizarding games.

 

“Okay they’re up in the air,” Charlie’s voice crackled amongst the cheers.

 

“How’s Charlie looking?” Dean asked, picking a book off the shelf.

 

“Good. At least that’s how she looks from here.” The game must’ve really begun then because the cheers exploded all around, crackling from the mirror in a strange sort of popping static. The noise bounced off the shelves and echoed around the library chambers.

 

Suddenly, a bright ruby-red haired young woman appeared behind the shelf looking harassed in her glassy cool blue eyes. “Castiel,” she said faux piteously, “isn’t there a quidditch game?”

 

“Anna,” was Cas’ one word.

 

“I can hear you two all over the library. This is one of the only times I can actually get substantial studying done—when everyone else is gone.” She moved forward to give them her coldest stare. Despite how much taller both Cas and Dean were, they leaned back, away from that frigid look that seemed to tower over them. “I have N.E.W.T.S. you know.” And her voice was as cold as her look.

 

“Sorry,” Cas replied, looking down at his feet.

 

Anna was Cas’ stepsister in her seventh year. She was Ravenclaw just like he—and three times as intelligent.

 

“Right, well—”

 

Loud boos and far off cheering exploded from the mirror which Dean immediately tried to hide behind his back—to no avail.

 

“What’s that?” Anna quickly snatched behind Dean’s back. He deftly avoided her snake-like hand with as innocent a look he could manage on his face. “Dean Winchester. If you don’t hand me whatever it is, I will hex you to spill your most dirty little secret.” She already had her wand out.

 

Dean went pale, gulping and flashing a look over to Cas. “Uhh…”

 

“Right now.”

 

Cas nodded slowly to Dean. “Just give it to her.”

 

Dean slowly showed Anna the mirror. Her brows raised high into her hairline. Jo’s face was half hidden by a flap of cloak and the fact that she had lowered it and was currently squinting hard at the game.

 

“Is that? Are you watching the game? From here?” Anna took the mirror from Dean’s hands. “Hello?”

 

Jo glanced into the mirror and yelped. “Anna?”

 

“What’s going on?” Anna asked.

 

Jo shook her head, looking at a loss for what to do. “Dean? Cas?” she called.

 

Dean quickly took the mirror back. “It’s okay, Jo.” He then explained to Anna what they were doing and what their suspicions were about the game.

 

“Huh,” Anna said simply, leaning back against the shelf. She stood in thoughtful silence for a moment and then nodded toward the mirror in Dean’s hands. “Ask her if she’s noticed anything. Anything at all.”

 

“Jo?”

 

“Well, uh,” Jo began, gaining her bearings, “I haven’t really…but just a minute ago, when the Slytherin team scored, one of the Hufflepuff chasers got a quaffle really close to the goal. Looked like it was going to go in, but it didn’t.” She shrugged and then snapped her head up as heavy groans filled the arena again. “It happened again,” she informed them, “the quaffle almost got in. Ah that sucks. Their aim looks so spot on, too.”

 

“Hm,” Anna considered. “Come on you two.” She beckoned for them to follow.

 

Dean and Cas followed Anna through the maze of shelves until they were in a rather dark corner—only dark because the light didn’t quite reach though—where some dusty old tombs rested.

 

“I practically live in here, just so you know,” Anna said, reaching up for one of the grey books on the top shelf, just out of her grasp. “After you told me about what Jo saw I remembered something. I saw those two troublemakers in here a couple days ago pouring over this book. Now the spells in here are pretty old and not very interesting so I didn’t think is was anything important. But,” Cas finally pulled the book down for her, “thank you Castiel, maybe this may be the answer.”

 

She flipped through the dusty yellowed pages until she found something she thought promising. “Ah, Avoidance spell. Simple really. But much more complicated if you want smooth arcs.”

 

“What are you getting at?” Dean asked.

 

“I bet you they cast this spell on the Slytherin hoops so Hufflepuff can’t score. How’s it looking, Jo?”

 

“They’re not scoring,” Jo answered. “Misses every time. But it’s really hard to tell.”

 

“Yeah wouldn’t someone notice?” Dean asked.

 

“That’s what they were working on,” Cas interjected, “making it near impossible to tell.”

 

“Right,” Anna said, “because the basic spell here will just make things veer off as soon as it gets close. If you’re really good, then it’s smooth and things will _just_ miss it.”

 

“Okay so how do we reverse it?” Dean asked.

 

“There is a counter curse,” Anna replied, flipping to the next page, “but it has to come from the wand that created the spell in the first place. All other spells will just bounce off.”

 

Dean and Cas gave each other agonized looks. Dean clenched his jaw. “Alastair. It’s gotta be him. He’s the best caster out of the lot.”

 

“How are we going to get him to reverse it?” Cas asked.

 

“Force more than likely.”

 

“I can probably help,” Anna suggested. “I’m pretty handy with hexes. Let’s go.”

 

Dean, Cas, and Anna raced out of the castle and down the lawn, barreling toward the distant cheers of the quidditch field. The stands and towering hoops loomed closer and hazily in the gloomy October daylight they began to make out zooming figures racing in yellow or green. Trudging up the stands, the three of them weaved through, looking for two near identical dark boys amongst the sea of green and silver.

 

“There,” Cas pointed to one of the top stands where Alastair stood next to Azazel. The former was hunched, glaring determinedly at the Slytherin goals while the latter had an equally shriveling look dedicated for the game. Cas and the others waded up the stands until they were standing right beside them.

 

“Undo the curse,” Dean commanded, waving his wand lightly in front of Alastair’s face. “I know what you did. Undo it.”

 

Alastair fixed him with an acidic amused sort of look not helped by the sharp bark of a laugh that escaped his throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And even if I did, I wouldn’t help you.”

 

Anna stepped in just then, her icy stare like the Antarctic. She shoved a slip of paper into his hands. “You’ve got ten seconds to undo the curse.”

 

“Or what?”

 

Anna didn’t hesitate. She discreetly pointed her wand at Azazel and with a flick of her wrist, light pink sparks gently flew from the tip and dazzled the air over him, drifting down gently until they disappeared.

 

“Impressive,” Alastair commented sarcastically.

 

Anna smiled. “Tell me, Azazel, what are your true feelings about your friend here?”

 

“I think I’m in love with him,” Azazel replied instantly. His eyes bulged and he slapped two hands over his mouth. Words kept pouring out of him but they were muffled now by his efforts. But not muffled enough. They caught words like ‘adore’ and ‘admire’ and a phrase like ‘think about at night’. His yellow eyes panicked and he frantically searched between the group of them, landing finally on Alastair’s dumbstruck expression before he bolted from the scene entirely.

 

Dean almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

 

“Now you can undo the spell or find that a truth hex will be the least of your troubles.”

 

Alastair visibly gulped and looked down at the paper in his hands. “Fine then.” With great reluctance and a scathing stare, he undid the spell and carefully slunk away from the three of them.

 

Anna grinned to herself, straightening her back quite proudly as she turned toward the game.

 

Dean glanced at Cas with a shaky smile. Cas returned it but much stronger, standing in close next to his friend. “We did it,” Cas remarked. He turned the mirror over in his hands and smiled at Jo.

 

“Anna did it,” Dean corrected.

 

“That’s true,” Cas conceded.

 

Anna sighed happily, said she needed to be back in the library, and then set off back to the castle.

 

“You’re sister is terrifying.”

 

Cas nodded. “That’s really true.”

 

“Really glad she didn’t use that on me.”

 

“You have a dirty secret that I don’t know about?”

 

Dean laughed but eyed Cas warily, feeling the pull in his gut that made him nervous.

 

Just then, Hufflepuff scored and the crowd burst into cheers.

 

But three of the players on the Slytherin team stopped. They glanced down at the stands exactly where Alastair and Azazel had been only to find Dean and Cas.

 

“Oh no,” Dean muttered, eyes wide. A pit formed in his stomach. Something very bad was about to happen.

 

“What’s going on?” Jo’s voice was dimmed by the crowd.

 

The players resumed, quickly recovering. They dove and swirled until two of them broke off, bats swinging a bludger between them. And in an instant, when they were near enough the Hufflepuff hoops, one slammed the bludger as hard as she could.

 

Charlie was hit in an instant. She seemed to move in slow motion, body moving with the force of the impact and hovering just for a moment in midair before plunging down a hundred feet. The crowd gasped and screamed and just before it was too late one of her fellow teammates caught her and lowered her gently to the ground.

 

Dean scrambled down to the bottom of the stands and craned over to get a better view. Cas’s hand came around his arm and he said something in his ear but Dean wasn’t paying attention. The Slytherin crowd behind him began cheering but he hardly noticed—and hardly cared that they’d caught the snitch in that moment—because Charlie wasn’t moving.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Uni and stuff! I'll have more time over the break :D

****  


**Cauldrons Bubble**

“Dean, you have to focus.”

Sat in the library, Dean and Cas were buried amongst books, parchment, and quills. The long stretch of parchment before Dean was the tenth in a long crumbled line of failed attempts at his potions essay.

“You’re distracting me,” Dean protested.

Cas had his feet up in a small space between the books and was idly flicking his pale white wand, drawing little sparkly blue wings in the air. Cas just looked at him.

Dean shrugged. “What? You are.”

“I can leave,” Cas said simply, going back to drawing his wings.

“No,” Dean replied quickly.

“Then focus.”

Dean picked up his quill and glared back at his parchment. He’d only written a few lines and the thing was due the day after tomorrow. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what to write—Cas had helped him plenty with that—he just had trouble sitting and writing it down coherently.

“You’re terrible moral support, dude,” Dean grumbled, painstakingly constructing another sentence.

Cas just shrugged, instead focusing on detailing feathers and adding in other colors on the edges.

It was another hour before anything cut through the monotony. Jo’s head appeared above their little barricade. Leaning her body over the books she saw Dean face plant onto his paper. With a raised brow she asked, “Essay writing?”

Cas nodded. He’d erased his sparkling wings and taken to drawing something that wasn’t quite clear yet.

“Well I don’t think you’ll get very far trying to write with your face,” Jo mused.

Dean’s “shut up” came out muffled. He brought his face up, a crease in his brow and a pout on his lips. “I’ve got half a page of crap.”

Cas sighed, reached over, and plucked the parchment away. His eyes scanned Dean’s uneven scrawl. He gave a small nod, scratched out a couple lines, and then gave it back. “Better. Just don’t include those ones on the final draft.”

Dean sighed loudly and stretched back in his seat.

“Riveting,” Jo commented. She straightened. “I came here to tell you Charlie woke up.”

Dean started forward. “What? How long were you going to sit on that?”

Jo just smirked, glancing between the two of them. “You wanna see her, or what?”

Dean packed up his parchment and supplies before Cas even blinked. In a second they left their pile of books to follow Jo into the hospital wing where Charlie was sitting up in a bed—looking exhausted but better—at least from their vantage point.

The school Healer, Ezekiel (who was actually one of Castiel’s many cousins, which wasn’t too surprising considering Cas’ enormous, well-connected family and the fact that one of his great aunts was the current Headmistress and another of his older cousins taught Charms) was carefully administering some draught with a spoon. He was a tall man with hooded eyes that had a perpetually clouded yet patient look. He stretched over, gently tipping her chin to get a look at the yellow and green patchwork that was the left side of Charlie’s face.

Dean grimaced at the sight, clenching his fist. As he got closer he saw how pale Charlie was and how her eyes were tinged pink in the whites and completely red-rimmed on the outside. But she managed to smile when she saw them.

“Hey, guys,” she said with a slight wince.

“You have to take this every twelve hours for the next week,” Ezekiel explained. “You should be on your feet sooner, but you will stay here until you fully recover.” He corked the bottle and turned to her friends. “You have a few minutes before the draught begins to work. And then she will need rest and solitude.” He left, dark mauve robes sweeping after him.

Charlie stuck out her tongue in a fake gag. “That stuff is nasty just so you guys know.”

“Good,” Dean said gruffly, taking a seat, “Next time don’t get hit in the face with a bludger.”

“I love you, too,” Charlie replied as condescendingly as she could, reaching out to pat his hand.

He caught it and held it gently. “Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.” Charlie smiled. “So, uh, how are you and Cas getting along? With the studying?”

Cas eyed Dean. “He’s having difficulties. It’s his focus mostly.”

“Dude, I am really focused. Nothing but focused,” Dean protested, “it’s just the damn words on the pages that’s messing with me. Give me a spell or curse any day.”

“Yes, but you’re assessment is partially your essays. If you don’t do well on them, you won’t pass this year.”

Dean grumbled, hunching his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Dean, you’ll get it,” Charlie reassured and then split with a yawn.

Jo snorted. “Look at her. She’s been in a coma for nearly two weeks and she’s tired.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Ezekiel said…Nearly two weeks? What day is it?”

“It’s going to be Halloween in a few days,” Dean said.

“Oh God,” Charlie murmured, “there’s no time to put something cool together.”

Jo poked her in the shoulder. “You need to get your priorities straight. You were whacked in the head by a bludger and nearly fell to your death, you know. They said you could have brain damage.”

Charlie touched her face and flinched. “Was it Meg? Or Ruby?”

“Ruby,” Dean answered with a dark look. “They suspended her for the season.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Charlie settled into her pillows. “Cas, did you color your hair blue?”

Cas frowned. “No?”

“Thought so. The meds are kicking in. Or you three have green skin and cat ears.”

Jo grinned. “I think we’ll go now.”

“Yeah, get better,” Dean ordered.

“It’s good, uh,” Jo shook Charlie’s shoulder gently, “to have you back, yeah?”

Cas took Dean by his shoulder and steered him away.

On the way out they heard Charlie say, “I bet I have a crap ton of homework.”

Jo was the last one out, the great doors shutting with a soft sigh. She had a grin plastered to her face and when seeing Dean and Cas both giving her strange looks she clapped them on the shoulders. “Don’t you two have something better to do?”

“Well Dean still hasn’t finished that essay…” Cas admitted.

Dean looked at him incredulously. “Dude, seriously?”  
Cas shrugged. “What?”

Jo laughed.

“You do,” Cas insisted.

“Well thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome.” Cas squinted at Dean, beginning to be unsure as Dean’s face became progressively grumpier.

Jo shook her head. “You two are hopeless, I swear.” And then she strolled off down another corridor in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room.

Cas and Dean started off aimlessly, just generally moving away from the hospital wing. “I don’t understand why you’re upset. Was it me?”

Dean blew out air and let his frown slide of his face. “Nah, Cas, it’s not you. You just reminded me how shit I am at this whole essay thing. And the fact that it’s for potions. Professor Crowley is a douche.”

Cas regarded him with his usual pensive stare. After a few moments of silent contemplation Cas looked away far off down the empty corridor. It was Saturday. Not much to do and it seemed like everyone had settled into some hide hole ready for the crisp October air to slowly set into frigid November, bundling up under layers of clothing and necks wrapped tight in thick woolen scarves. The corridor eventually opened up and all along the left side there were windows made of arches and without glass, allowing gusts of wind to pass in echoes against the stone. The two felt their robes tangle and untangle around their legs. It was day but the sun was hidden under blue grey clouds and the thick smell of rain.

Quietly and without much thought or warning, Cas slid his hand into Dean’s. His hand was bare and his fingers were long and cold with only slight calluses on the tips grazing Dean’s skin. His thumb, gentle and still, along the knuckles. Dean’s heart, for a second, jumped into his throat. But it quickly settled back down, only beating a little faster than usual. There was warmth now in that shared contact, and Dean wondered vaguely how he hadn’t really realized how cold his hands were.

They walked in silence like that until the corridor shielded itself from the outside once more and the low orange lights began to flicker and dance along the walls and floor. Cas broke the silence with, “Well I’m glad Charlie is alright.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah. It’s a relief.” And it was true. Dean felt a bit lighter now that he’d seen Charlie awake and smiling and okay. And despite the oncoming horror that was going to be potions class on Monday, he felt good.

“We really are going to have to work on your essay, though.”

“Yeah.”

Cas held his hand all the way to the library.

Monday came too quickly. Sunday felt tight and crammed within the library and it didn’t help that rain poured with deliberate force upon the windows and made sounds like shackles rattling in a cage. And yet it sped by underneath piles of parchment and books and broken quills, leaving Dean ripe with misery for Monday, which came far too quickly.

Potions was down in the dungeons. The dungeons weren’t as creepy as the connotation suggests. Well they aren’t as creepy as the potions classroom in particular, which Professor Crowley went through extra lengths to make as disturbing experience as possible. For one, there were stuffed animals on all the walls amongst other devices that neither Dean nor Cas wanted to think about. And in the space that wasn’t covered in disturbing instruments and staring beasts there were shelves filled with jars of ingredients—or at least the kinds of ingredients that would elicit the most disgusted and horrified of responses. Things like jellied eyeballs from various creatures (some still managing to wink, too), coiled intestines, beating hearts, not beating hearts, and blood. Lots of blood. Always the blood. Green, blue, purple, all the colors of blood—even silver. Unicorn blood. Which was probably the most grotesque of all. And in one corner of the very dark, creaking, room there was a collection of daggers of various sizes and shapes. Some dating back centuries and assured of their ritualistic and sacrificial purposes by Crowley, pointedly, on the first day they had arrived.

And weirdly, Dean longed for that first day where all his eleven-year-old self had to worry about was not peeing his pants. Today he had the weight of his future in front of him—or at least part of it. It wasn’t O.W.L.S or anything but all these essays and exams were preparation, and Crowley’s was the worst.

One good thing about Potions was that the Hufflepuffs had it with the Ravenclaws. And so far having Cas next to him had helped him to pass the class in the previous years. On Monday Cas was next to him, as usual, while they sat in dead silence while Crowley gave them the usual beginning-of-session stare down. After several uncomfortable seconds, Crowley stood up and walked to one end of his horrendously pretentious black desk.

“Essays in.” He touched one finger to a stack of parchment papers. “I really hope they don’t suck.”

He stepped down. Crowley was one of those wizards that didn’t wear robes so much as they wore lengthy suits. “Last year’s were terrible and you all should be ashamed that you even showed your faces in this class again. In this school again.” He paused again to look around the room. “Unfortunately, you all are back. And your essays, too.”

Cas glanced over at Dean who was trying really hard not to show that he was chewing violently on the inside of his cheek. He kept a hard look on like he usually did when he tried to seem like he was okay. Cas turned back to Crowley. There were new instructions up on the board.

“You’ve got two hours to do this. Fail to do so and, well, find yourself having a much more difficult life. I can’t abide failure.” He watched the students visibly swallow and glance nervously and fleetingly (because they didn’t know whether it was okay now to look away) at their neighbors. Crowley sat down. “Well?” he asked, voice gaining an edge.

Everyone scrambled to get to work.

One hour went by. Dean’s face was scrunched up in concentration. He had a book open on one side, the cauldron on the other, and a whole mess of ingredients spilling over between the two. Cas had helped him as quietly as he could, whispering miniscule instructions when he thought he could get away with it. Crowley had only snapped his head and narrowed his eyes in their direction twice so far, so it wasn’t so bad.

At the moment, Dean had his nose to the brim of the cauldron, seemingly unaware of the steam rising up into his face. He held a bottle of blue liquid aloft, the contents of which were just near breaking point at the lip, ready to spill over. But it had to be done surgically so he lowered his whole arm in increments until just one drop escaped. It landed and Dean quickly backed away.

Five minutes ago that other kid on the other side of the room attempted the same thing. It blew up in his face (to be fair, most things blew up in his face). Turns out he missed a turn with the spoon earlier.

Dean watched his cauldron anxiously, going over in his head every step he’d taken since the beginning of these torturous two hours. Suddenly, a loud boom erupted. Cas pushed Dean down as black sludge-like liquid splattered everywhere. Dean felt droplets on his back and when he turned around he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank God.” It wasn’t his cauldron. Turning to Cas he said, “Do wizards believe in God?”

Cas blinked, looking up at him from the sludge that landed on his shoulder. “Um, we usually say Merlin.”

The girl in the row ahead was drenched. She shakily brought her hands up and sloshed off some of the stuff from her face.

Crowley cackled from his seat. “It’s all over your hair!” He cackled some more. “Looks like we’ve got another failure on our hands. Join that other rather squirrelly looking fellow in the corner.”

She teetered a bit and then turned to wobble over to the back corner where there was a row of low stools. Really low stools. The boy whose cauldron exploded earlier sat crunched up in shame and looked like he was beginning to steam. The girl sat next to him.

“You can get back to work now,” Crowley hissed from behind his newspaper.

Dean inched back to his cauldron. It was looking a shade paler than it was supposed to but the blue was still blue. And it seemed to be simmering just like Cas’. Dean sat down next to Cas.

In exactly twenty-three minutes Dean’s cauldron was ready for the last half. He leaned over, taking a whiff. It smelled funny—a bit like spoiled milk but not quite. In fact, the smell was almost nonexistent and Dean immediately felt like he was imagining it. The color was okay, not as vibrantly blue like Cas’ but that didn’t seem to matter. Going forward, Dean stirred in the last ingredients, measuring them out carefully and in minute detail.

The minutes trickled by until he was on the last step with just ten minutes till the end of the session. Cas was done; already sitting idly while Crowley began his tour around the class. Three others since had joined the two in the corner—but their hadn’t exploded. Their pots had gone bad. Dean began to sweat.

Crowley was one table away. Dean finished and stood straight. Cas lazily got up again as Crowley started up at the end of their table.

“Pass,” he remarked passively to the boy on the end. He moved to the girl next to Cas. She was visibly sweating. He scrutinized hers carefully. “Hm. Pass.” Cas’ turn. Crowley paused there, bent down and frowned deeply. “Well. Perfect again, I suppose.” His tone was sarcastic—probably disappointed that he didn’t get to fail Castiel (he had never failed Castiel and was deeply distraught over this fact).

Dean was next—and last. He could practically hear the funeral dirge calling his name. Crowley didn’t bend over to look at Dean’s. He just let a slow smile form on his bearded face. “Well, well, well…” Dean looked like he was going to speak so Crowley held up a finger. “Wait for it.”

A few painful, agonized seconds passed and then everything went to hell. Dean’s pot began to sizzle and the rancid smell of bad milk overtook his senses, filling up his mouth, his nose, his eyes even, until he was nearly gagging. And then, in a second, the blue liquid turned black and thick, burbling grotesquely.

There was a word on Dean’s tongue that began with F and rhymed with truck, but it stuck there just like the sludge in his cauldron.

“Ahh,” Crowley breathed, smugness all over his features. “Looks like the angel whispering in your ear didn’t help this time. Fail.”

Dean swallowed thick, feeling the blood rush from his face. His vision wavered and all he could see and hear was the bad pot, Crowley’s smug look, and the unholy mantra: Fail, Fail, Fail. It echoed in the caverns of his mind, taking over his being and sucking him into blackness. He didn’t see the sludge disappearing from his pot or the command to leave, but Cas must have grabbed Dean and his stuff because next thing he recognized was walking down the cold dungeon corridors. He dragged his feet up the stairwell until he surfaced into the castle where he found the nearest nook between two knights and collapsed. Cas was next to him, sympathy in his blue eyes.

“Dean,” he started.

Dean gave him a sharp look.

“Dean,” Cas started again, this time more severely. This commanded Dean’s attention no matter how aggravated his attention was. “It’s only one mark. Your essay is still good. It won’t hurt you for the rest of the year.”

“Blow me, Cas.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed in, blue encrusting over with deadly ice. He huffed, turning his face away to glare at a particularly green stone block in the opposing wall. Students strolled by, laughing, talking, smiling together. Cas frowned and after a second his frown deepened. His shoulders tensed and if he had feathers they would have been bristling. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Cas got up and stood over Dean.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then turned on his heel and walked away.

“Cas?” Dean blinked and watched him disappear around the corner. He started up to follow but Cas was gone. “Cas…”

Dean suddenly felt very empty and very cold.

The next couple days were like that. Cas didn’t sit with him during mealtimes, didn’t walk with him to classes, and when it couldn’t be helped that they had to be in each other’s presence, Cas ignored him. Dean tried to speak with him—once. And promptly shrank from the arctic glare he’d received. Cas could be terrifying when he wanted to be. He’d thought, the day before Halloween when Crowley decided to assign yet another exam and essay, that Cas would speak to him then—but he didn’t.

On Halloween morning, however, Cas sat down next to Dean at the Hufflepuff table. Dean lifted his head from where he’d set it in the palm of his hand, eyes wide. Cas gave him a glare that maybe wasn’t like Antarctica but maybe somewhere nearly as cold—like Russia in the winter. And like Russia in the winter, the meaning was clear: do not invade. They sat in silence. But Dean felt a weight was lifted and he smiled a bit into his porridge.

He didn’t see the eye rolls that he was getting from both Jo and Sam. “Idiots,” they had both concluded long ago.

Halloween was an easy day. Only Charms with Professor Barnes, which Dean had with Cas in the morning, and then later there was Care of Magical Creatures with Professor Singer. That one he didn’t have with Cas. Cas had Muggle Studies. Dean found that wholly hilarious, but today he didn’t tease him about it. Today Dean and Cas were silent on the way to Charms and to lunch, but before they split off for the afternoon they stopped in the corridor by a stairwell. Dean looked at Cas. And Cas looked back, blue like droplets of water. And then he was gone up the stairs.

Dean sighed all the way to class.

He didn’t see Cas again until just before the Halloween feast. He was amongst the pulsated crowd of students and then a firm hand pulled him out of the way. Pressed near the wall, in the only open space, there Cas was, searching for words.

“Dean, I…”

“My fault,” Dean said immediately. “I’m sorry.”

Cas frowned. “No. I want to know why you’re so ready to give up. It’s not like you.”

“Cas—”

“No.” Something like fire was stirring in his eyes. “It’s like that muggle saying you say sometimes. Teeth pulling. It’s that barbaric.”

“What?”

“It’s difficult to help you, Dean. Because you don’t want to be helped.”

“I never sai—”

“You don’t have to. I know you. But that’s also why I’m confused as well as frustrated. You were the one that told me to try out again for the Quidditch team when I didn’t make it the first time.” Cas left it there, grinding his teeth.

Dean felt the unspoken words. He swallowed. There were still students filling in, excited. “Okay, um, alright.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll…try harder.”

Cas nodded. “Good.” He exhaled and then a light smile curved the corner of his lips. He took Dean’s hand in his and pulled him into the Great Hall along with the last of the students filing inside.

Halloween feast was glorious. Pumpkin everything. But most importantly: Pumpkin Pie.

“Oh here c’mon. Feed this to me.” Dean opened his mouth expectantly.

Cas raised a brow but then snorted. He took the whole slice of pie and shoved it into Dean’s mouth.

“He—mmphh!” The half that stuck out broke off and fell with a plump down Dean’s shirt and into his lap. “Dude,” he choked out, trying to chew around the massive piece of pie stuck on his tongue. “What the hell?” But as soon as he got it down he started laughing right along with Cas.

“You deserve it.”

“Ohhh… Here.” He picked up the other half and tried to shove it into Cas’ unwilling mouth.

A pair of hands smacked each of them on the shoulder. “Finally kissed and made up?” Jo asked, bending low to speak to them over the din.

Cas took a huge bite. Dean snorted at Cas’ swollen cheeks. “What’s it to you?” he asked.

Jo shrugged. “You two are such drama queens, I swear. Anyway. Look who’s a sight for sore eyes.” She nodded to the back of the hall. And that was when the two noticed that the overall clamor was getting quieter.

Back there the doors were splayed open, Ezekiel standing vigilantly and watched a figure slowly moving down between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Charlie. In crutches and a huge grin on her face.

“Charlie.” Dean got up.

She rolled her eyes at him, still slowly making her way toward them. “This isn’t a moment,” she announced when she got within a few feet.

At the Hufflepuff table several other students stood up—members of the Hufflepuff team. When Charlie saw she did a bit of a double take.

“O-okay maybe it’s a little bit of a moment,” she conceded nervously.

“Dude.” Dean reached out and gently touched her arm. “Looking good, kid.”

Charlie rolled her eyes.

The team started clapping. And it was infectious, spreading out to the rest of the table. Soon the entire Hall was roaring cheers—including members of the Slytherin table. The only group that sat idly were those select few, the “Demons”, but they didn’t matter. They didn’t matter at all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks y'all for reading so far! I've got a lot of other stuff going on still but i'll try and get another chapter out ASAP. For now, enjoy this one~

****

**Quidditch, and Other Games**

 

November correlated with the end of any semblance of warmth. Wind howled through the cavernous corridors and rain pounded, days at a time, against stone and glass, leaving toes and other extremities weak to the will of that icy, icy _wet._ It seeped through clothes and into bones until all were shivering under layers of cloaks, house-themed scarves, and lots and lots of socks.

 

Third years and up braved this cold to make a trip to Hogsmeade—the second of that year. That morning the sky was partially fogged, but clear of rain, so the day looked fairly promising.

 

Jo and Charlie accompanied Dean and Cas this time, and after filling up their pockets with sweets, the four went to The Three Broomsticks to fill up on warmth from the fire and delicious butterbeer.

 

“We’re gonna kick your asses,” Jo said as they sat down in the usual place—the corner under the staircase.

 

Cas rolled his eyes. “You’re not on the team.”

 

“Technicalities,” she waved back. “I am a Gryffindor, too. So I can say that we’re gonna kick your asses tomorrow.”

 

Dean snorted into his butterbeer. “Look, uh, I don’t want to take sides, but—”

 

Jo shot him a look. “You always take Cas’ side,” she reminded him with a bemused smile.

 

“That is not true.”

 

Charlie, Jo, and even Cas gave him a _look._

“Or it is. But look Cas is the best seeker out of all the teams. Hate to say it, Jo, but Gryffindor might lose.”

 

“We’ve got the best chasers. And the best keeper.”

 

“We’ve got the best keeper,” Dean corrected, winking at Charlie.

 

“Oh, my mistake.” Jo elbowed her friend.

 

“Oh…yeah. Well, you know.” Charlie grinned and tossed her hair, soaking it in.

 

“Even so,” Jo said, going back to her butterbeer with a quirked brow.

 

“I guess we’ll just have to see tomorrow,” Dean replied, nudging Cas’ shoulder.

 

“Well for what it’s worth,” another voice interrupted, “I hope you win, Castiel.” The four looked around and spotted Meg, hovering behind Jo and Charlie’s chairs. Her smile was well-enough but it was her eyes that retained that all-too-familiar devilishness. “If only to get the chance to kick your pretty little bum in a rematch.”

 

“Well it won’t be fair if you keep using dirty tricks,” Charlie said.

 

Meg eyed her disinterestedly. “No idea what you’re talking about. But, if I did, I’d say of course not.” She turned her gaze back to Cas. “Fair and square.” She winked and waltzed off.

 

“I don’t trust her,” Dean said immediately.

 

Jo shrugged. “I don’t think we’re supposed to.”

 

They all agreed with grimaces and sips into their butterbeers. And then they moved on to safer topics like potions and transfiguration. At least, Charlie thought they were safe. Dean hadn’t told her about what happened. When he informed her about the potions, she stuffed her nose back into her mug.

 

“And let’s not even talk about transfigurations…”

 

“Okay, well,” Charlie said pulling a foamy nose back to face the rest of them, “you still have the end of term exams. If you do well now and then the rest of next semester, you’ll be fine. And then of course, there’s the O.W.L.S…. But there’s time for that.” She still looked worried.

 

“Right,” Dean’s sarcasm _dripped._

 

“She’s right. There is time.” Cas looked serious, but his gentle nudge softened his manner.

 

“There is?” Charlie asked and then quickly backtracked at Dean’s alarmed look. “Right, yes, there is. Listen to Cas.”

 

Jo snorted. “Yeah, whatever.” She stood up, pulling Charlie with her. “C’mon I still wanna shop. And you,” she pointed a menacing finger between Dean’s eyes, “don’t be such a dumbass. It’s getting tired.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes and watched as the girls skipped out into the frosty wind.

 

“You know, um,” Cas began, hands twitching in front of him, “maybe we should…take a walk, too.”

 

Dean’s shoulders slumped. He breathed into his mug. “It’s freezing.”

 

“Walking helps.”

 

Turning his face, he groaned. “Fine.”

 

Next thing the pair were outside, walking down the cobbley, wet streets of Hogsmeade with a cold wind whistling lightly through the trees. They chatted aimlessly down the various paths. The streets here were traditionally English. Some wide, some narrow, but all winding, bumpy, and paved with smooth stones about the size of a hand. Their shoes clacked and their cloaks flapped against their knees.

 

The sky, already lightly grey, turned dark. And then the first drops of rain descended, dropping coldly against their skin. Soon, it picked up. It wasn’t torrential, but it was steady, pattering on stone, fabric, and wood.

 

Cas’ hand awkwardly grasped Dean’s, and he pulled him along.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Just follow.”

 

Cas led them down another narrow road and pulled him under an arched passage that led to a small courtyard. It was square, with a wooden corridor, open to the elements, running all the way around. A garden grew on top of this corridor, flourishing despite the hard November cold, and the flowers stretching up high to soak and preen. In the center of the courtyard was a large tree. Under this was a small, stone bench where Cas pulled in Dean to take cover from the rain.

 

“It’s outside Madame Puddifoot’s,” Cas said. “It’s usually a lot nicer in February.”

 

Dean didn’t really know what to say. His heart was doing that weird thing again. Sitting so close to Cas under the tree. Hands clasped tight together. Vaguely he thought that those flowers must have been really flourishing because the air felt heady, almost noxious with the scent of roses. And Cas was so close. So, so close. His blue eyes clear, bright, and— _and—_

 

Dean coughed, glancing away and ignoring the way Cas shifted awkwardly next to him. “Uh, no—I mean, yes—It’s a good spot. From the rain.” Dean mentally beat himself, feeling an unnatural heat, which had nothing to do with the cold, burn wild in his cheeks.

 

Cas grip tightened.

 

“It’s scary, isn’t it?” Dean asked, finally glancing up to meet his gaze.

 

“What is?” Cas asked, looking distracted. His hand was tight. Like he was trying to cement Dean to the spot with only his grip. But his eyes wandered.

 

“Uh, um, the game. Quidditch. Playing.” Dean couldn’t believe his foot-in-mouth disease was so inconvenient. He tried leaning away—incrementally, unconsciously; Cas was getting closer, and so was that scent.

 

“No, not really.” Cas’ eyebrow twitched—challengingly, pointedly. “I like playing it—the game.”

 

“The—the game.”

 

“ _Quidditch._ It’s fun. Especially when I like the challenger.”

 

“The Gryffindor team.”

 

“I have the highest respect for them.”

 

Dean swallowed hard. “Right, well. I think…the rain! It’s let up. We should—” He waved his hand in the general direction of the school.

 

“Alright,” Cas said slowly.

 

Later Dean would recollect the way Cas’ thumb worked over his knuckles on the way back to school. And he would not think about _the game._ Unless it was the actual game, which was the next day and the last day of sanctuary exam study time.

 

What he did think about was how _good_ Cas had become over the summer. His agility, his reaction time, his _flexibility_ all improved ten-fold.

 

Rain poured worse than ever. The school filled the stands. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw banners waved in a blur of red and blue and wild cheers and heavy thunder. Cas was sweeping the air, from what anyone could see, circling the stadium on search for the tiny golden snitch.

 

“Damn,” Dean muttered. He held the umbrella higher so he could watch Cas more closely.

 

Jo elbowed him. “Shut up, I’m watching. And you’re drooling.”

 

He wiped his chin, glancing around. “Where’s Charlie?”

 

“Oh, you know, she has quidditch issues. It’s the field…it kind of freaks her out. Now shut up.” She stretched up to her toes to get a better look.

 

“Whoa—wait. What?”

 

“She has _issues_. It’s none of your business.”

 

“Like hell—”

 

“It’s _none_ of your business.”

 

Dean backed down. He turned back to the game in time to see Cas do a swooping nose-dive above them, arm extended, hand fully out-stretched. “You think?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Mouths dropped, Dean and Jo watched in awe as Cas arched upward just in time, hand grappling for the snitch that was mere inches from his finger.

 

“Damn…”

 

“Drooling…”

 

Cheering sounded from the other side. The Gryffindor seeker blew in with force, crashing into Cas’ side and throwing them both off course of the snitch. But it seemed Cas didn’t lose sight of it. He feinted left and then quickly circled over the other seeker, shooting up to chase the snitch through wind and rain. The other seeker caught on quick and hastened to follow.

 

Fast and hot, she gained on Cas, throwing out her hand ready to snatch the prize.

 

“Come on, come on, come on…”

 

Jo elbowed Dean. “Shut up.”

 

They were neck to neck now. Gaining, inches on her in turns. Swerving around the hoops, the Gryffindors scored a goal, but it didn’t change either from _their_ goal. Suddenly, the snitch zoomed from both their reaches. Cas was the first to react. He took a dangerously sharp turn, nearly throwing himself from his broom. He regained his balance and zoomed after it. Dean chewed his lip nervously. Cas pulled tight against his broom. Faster and faster, until he was _there._

 

“Ahhhhh,” Jo sounded next to Dean.

 

Cas’ hand snaked out. He caught the snitch.

 

The crowd exploded.

 

“Awwww.”

 

“That is what I’m talking about,” Dean muttered, then turning to Jo, “That is my best friend.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re still drooling.”

 

Dean met with Cas as he was coming out of the changing rooms. He was fresh and clean and not soaked to the bone, but he was also surrounded by his team who were cheering and mussing his hair as they passed.

 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, spotting him.

 

The last of his teammates scattered, leaving hearty congratulations in their wake. Cas jogged up to Dean and ducked his head under his readied umbrella.

 

“We just have to beat Hufflepuff and then we have a chance at the final.” Cas wound his fingers through Dean’s.

 

“Yeah but if Slytherin beats Gryffindor then you’ll have to face them.” They started off slow back to school. The grass was mulchy from the rain and the path made by years of students was filled with slippery mud. Dean shifted the umbrella to stay over Cas’ head. “That was a great catch, by the way.”

 

Cas smiled at the ground. “Thank you, Dean.”

 

“I mean, it was…” Dean nodded and held up his hand, forefinger and thumb forming a circle. “Awesome.”

 

Cas shrugged shyly. “Well… My opponents brought that out, I think.”

 

“Well, the Slytherin team, you know, scary guys.”

 

“I’m not worried about them. We’re just as good—maybe better.”

 

Dean grinned, biting his lip. “Really? Getting cocky now, Cas, aren’t we?”

 

“In a manner of speaking,” Cas replied, suspiciously sly grin fully in place.

 

“Maybe your newfound confidence will transfer to me for the exams.”

 

“Oh the exams…” Cas bumped his shoulder into Dean’s. “How are you feeling about that?”

 

“Awful. But that’s why I have you.” Cheeky grin. Cas rolled his eyes and bumped his shoulder again. “Heeeey.” They were near the school now and something occurred to Dean. “Maybe we should get a room?”

 

Cas quirked his lips.

 

“A _classroom,”_ Dean amended hastily. He swallowed. “Practice. Studying—” He took a breath. “To practice transfigurations. And potions.”

 

Cas’ smile didn’t stop. “I think we should.” That smile was beginning to unnerve Dean.

 

“Yeah.” Just inside the corridor, Dean and Cas stopped to shake out the rain from the umbrella and fold it up. “So, they’re gonna have a party for you or…?”

 

Cas’ face turned serious. “Dean, I…” His hand tightened in Dean’s.

 

Dean waved him to go on. “Yeah? Spit it out.”

 

“I’m glad you’re my friend.”

 

“Yeah, dude, me too?”

 

“And I quite like you.”

 

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, man, you’re my best friend.” He let go of Cas’ hand and slung his arm around Cas’ shoulders. “You did awesome today. All that training this summer really paid off. Anyway, I told Sam I’d meet up with him after. You better get to your party.”

 

Patting Cas on the back he let him go. Cas hesitated for a second, eyes enigmatic. “Right,” he said quietly.

 

“Don’t miss your party!” Dean said before heading off to find Sam.

 

Cas shuffled his feet, shoulders slumping. Very slowly he made his was back to the Ravenclaw common room. He felt sad. Disappointed. And a bit frustrated. Dean obviously didn’t understand his meaning, and he wondered if Dean ever understood his meaning.

 

After answering the usual riddle to get in, Cas was faced with unsurprising cheers shouting, “Surprise!” Arms encircled him and brought him to the center where a drink was shoved into his hands and music was conjured from somewhere. Once the patting and the congratulations settled down, Cas was able to find his friend Hael.

 

“Castiel,” she beckoned him to the sofa by the fire. Hael was a seventh year like Cas’ sister Anna—the two were actually close friends.

 

“Where are all your books?” Cas asked.

 

“Taking a break,” Hael replied. “As is Anna.” She looked over the couch. Cas followed her gaze to where Anna’s rather imposing form was standing on the other side of the room. She chatted amiably with one of the team members.

 

“It seems a bit much of a celebration, don’t you think?”

 

“People like to celebrate,” Hael replied simply. “Besides, I think a lot of them are celebrating exams. And I thought I was a nerd.”

 

“Celebrating…exams. Yes.”

 

Cas’ solemn look made Hael give him her full attention. “Something happen? With Dean?”

 

Cas sighed. “You and my sister are very perceptive.”

 

She raised a brow that clearly told him _not to change the subject._

 

“Yes. Dean.”

 

“Going to make me ask?”

 

“I suppose you just did, but no. I told—or a I tried to at least—Dean what I—how I—” Cas blew air through his nose and then stuff his face in his hands. “I’m very bad at this.”

 

Anna sat down next to the both of them. “Well what exactly did you say?”

 

“I told him I quite liked him and that I was glad he was my friend.”

 

Hael and Anna snorted in unison.

 

“And I _really_ thought I was the nerd,” Hael said.

 

“Castiel, that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

 

“Thank you,” Cas replied flatly.

 

“You did not tell him you liked him. You told him—”

 

“‘ _Oh, Dean, what a good friend you are. Let’s be extra super bros together from now on,’”_ Hael finished.

 

“What she said.”

 

“You’re hopeless.”

 

Anna’s small smile was signature. “Oh, Hael, he’s not really _that_ hopeless. Castiel, you’re straightforward to a fault. Except when things are outside your vocabulary.”

 

Cas shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.”

 

“I’ve changed my mind. That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Anna heaved. “You boys are idiots. Look, you have to be honest. Really honest. But to do that, you have to toughen up, Castiel.”

 

“Yeah don’t think that it’s some squishy, easy, pansy thing to do,” Hael added, “Feelings are tough. You gotta be a badass—”

 

Anna elbowed her.

 

“What?”

 

“Look our point is that you shouldn’t give up. You both are idiots, remember?”

 

Cas looked more confused than ever. Anna and Hael decided their break was over and N.E.W.T.s had to come first so the two got up to head to their dormitory to study.

 

“Hey, wait, Hael?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“This is unrelated, but…you’re really good in transfigurations, right?”

 

“…Yes?”

 

“Do you think you could help Dean and I with it?”

 

“Dean and you?”

 

“Dean, really.”

 

Hael smirked. “Oh yeah, you’re on a crusade to help him.”

 

“Yes. If you’re too busy—”

 

“No, I’ll do it. I think reviewing basics might be help to me as well. Besides, they say teaching is the best way to learn. Let me know in advance when you want to start.”

 

And with that Hael and his sister went up.

 

Cas wasn’t left alone too long. A few of his teammates joined him on the couch with plenty of party favors. He smiled and went along, but he remained troubled.

 

And it only worsened when the night was over and Cas was left with his thoughts. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know for sure what he wanted to do. Only that he liked Dean very much, but this was unexplored territory. It wasn’t exactly in his vocabulary as Anna had put it.

 

Cas decided eventually to put it to rest. He decided he wasn’t going to do or say anything for the foreseeable future. Instead, Cas focused on helping Dean with his studying. Which, over the course of the next few weeks seemed to improve in the potions area but for some reason Dean was losing it in transfigurations.

 

Maybe it was the classes. Dean had always said that Professor Roman was a huge dick. And it wasn’t that Castiel didn’t notice he just managed to excel in spite of any oppressive behavior on any professor’s part. However, Dean struggled and not for lack of trying or frustration. He hated teachers like Roman and Crowley and wanted to do anything to beat them and succeed—his problem was that he didn’t believe in his own capabilities regarding the actual schoolwork. Like essay and tests and more importantly: exams.

 

The two had borrowed an empty classroom like Dean had wanted, and Cas was busy flipping through old tomes on transfiguration while Dean hopeless tried turning the giant brass cage into a flamingo.

 

“Think pink,” Cas droned as the cage sprouted a few rather metallic brown feathers.

 

“Think one-legged,” Dean mocked.

 

“They have two legs.”

 

“Shut up.” Dean tried again. Feathers sprouted again and one leg appeared from the frame, creaking at the joint.

 

“They have two legs…”

 

Dean groaned, crashing into the nearest bench. Cas absently waved his wand again, returning the cage to its original state. “Didn’t you say you have some friend that could help?”

 

“You don’t think I am helpful?”

 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

 

“I’m joking.”

 

“You’re terrible at it.”

 

“I think I’m quite funny. In any case, yes, I did say I have a friend. She should be here any minute.”

 

And right on time Hael came through the door, carrying several of her own volumes on various subjects. Her dark hair was neatly plaited behind her neck and she was wearing the Ravenclaw blazer with matching tie.

 

“Hello, Castiel,” she greeted. She set her books down next to Cas, straightened her shoulders, and turned on her heel to face Dean. “You.”

 

“This your friend?”

 

Cas nodded, not even pulling his nose out of his book.

 

Hael walked forward, carefully assessing the scene. She stepped on some feathery bits and glanced down to scrutinize. “Brass cage…various bird remains… You’re tyring to get a flamingo, aren’t you?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You need to think pink,” she said in a manner that Dean could definitely identify as patronizing.

 

“Don’t you think I know that?”

 

She tapped the cage lightly. “Clearly.”

 

“Cas—”

 

“Let me see your wand.” Hael held out her hand.

 

“What? Hell no.”

 

“His wand isn’t broken,” Cas said.

 

“Fine. Then, go on. Show me what you can do.” Hael stepped aside and gestured to the cage.

 

Dean’s stomach dropped. Sweat broke out in his palms. The cage started to zoom in and out in his vision. He was pretty sure this what people called performance anxiety.

 

“Breathe, Dean,” Cas’ quiet voice said from somewhere behind him.

 

Dean had ‘shut up’ on his lips but he canned it and carefully took a breath. Focusing on the cage, he lifted his wand, thought _pink,_ and said the incantation. The cage…turned pink. Hanging his head, Dean sat back on the bench.

 

Cas peered above his book. “At least you were thinking pink.”

 

Hael sighed. “Yes, but that was only part of it. I should have been clearer.” She stepped up to Dean and took his arm and placed it into position. “You need to have your elbow up. Also, straighten your shoulders and pull together those knees.”

 

Dean awkwardly changed his stance, frowning at how weird it felt.

 

“A confident stance will produce a confident spell. But that’s just part of it. Intention is everything. Example: let’s say I want to hex someone with warts on their entire body. There’s a spell and wave for that but if I just half-heartedly do both of those things then I may only end up cursing just a small part or get tiny little warts or warts that last two seconds. But if I stand confidently and feel the intention behind the hex then I will get what I want. Now _you_ need to get what _you_ want.” Her last words were like threatening daggers.

 

Hael whipped out her wand and returned the cage to normal. She stepped back and told Dean to proceed.

 

Dean took a breath and lifted his wand.

 

“Back straight.”

 

He righted himself.

 

“Elbow…”

 

Lifted higher, he suddenly felt different. Good different. Like there was real power here. His mental self nodded and his outer self focused on the cage. He said the incantation and waved his wand.

 

The cage rattled and then in a screeching squawk the cage shifted. A golden, metal flamingo stood on the table. It’s head bobbed.

 

Hael’s brows turned up into her hairline. “Well.”

 

Cas grinned behind his book. “You have to think _pink_ , Dean.”

 

Dean stepped back from the thing. It lifted its leg, balancing. “Well I think it looks awesome.”

 

Hael bent over, inspecting. “You got everything right except color and…texture.” She turned to Dean, considering. “You know part of intent is vision, right?”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s integral to transfigurations more than anything. You have to envision what you’re creating. Now try again.” She returned the flamingo to a cage.

 

Dean sighed heavily.

 

“Dean…” Cas said warningly.

 

“What?” Hael asked, “Not supposed to say you can’t?”

 

“Gotta stay positive,” Dean said with a bitter glare toward Cas.

 

Hael sniggered. “Good. Then try again.”

 

Dean took an angry breath and then lifted his wand, remembering the posture. Glaring at the stupid brass cage, Dean envisioned a flamingo—and _pink._ He said the incantation one last time and waved his wand.

 

This time it worked. The bright magenta flamingo unfurled its wings and snipped at the air.

 

“Dude…”

 

Cas put down his book. “You did it.”

 

The flamingo bobbed its head.

 

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

 

Hael stepped around the beast. She poked her wand gently into the wings, inspecting. “Well…”

 

Dean’s stomach dropped. Something was wrong with it.

 

“It seems…”

 

Dean didn’t notice when Cas had moved to stand right next to him. All he felt was a sudden warm presence that only marginally calmed his nerves, which were apparently a raging wildfire.

 

Hael stopped inspecting. Cas’ hand was wrapped around Dean’s. He squeezed.

 

“There are a few forgotten elements. It doesn’t have a voice box, for one. And you have a slightly wrong pigmentation. It’s too dark a pink to be a healthy salmon pink. However, those are just details. They’ll mark you down for them in the O.W.L.S, for sure, but you’ll definitely get an E for this kind of work. Improve the pigment and you’ll manage an O.”

 

Dean let out a breath. “So it’s good? It’s fine?”

 

“Fairly.” Hael nodded. “You passed. But can you turn it back into a cage?”

 

And that was basically the next three hours that day. Hael and Cas went to reading their own books while Dean spent half the time chasing the bird down and the other half failing miserably to turn it back into a cage.

 

When he finally did manage it, after the sun had well set, Hael had already gone and it was only Cas left who was snoozing on the table. Dean put the cage down in front of Cas’ sleeping form.

 

Gently, he nudged his shoulder. “Hey, dude…”

 

Cas grumbled. His brow puckered in annoyance.

 

“Cas, look.”

 

Cas’s eyes squinted open. He look like he was going to gripe for a second and then his eyes fell on the cage—once again brass and shiny. “You did it,” his voice croaked. “What time is it?”

 

“Near curfew.”

 

“Uggghhhhh.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

Cas sat up, frown on his face. He squinted at the brass cage. “You really did it.”

 

“Have some faith. Come on.” Dean tugged under Cas’ arm. “We have to go.”

 

Cas grudgingly got to his feet, still pouting miserably. He took Dean’s hand. “Good job.”

 

Dean snorted. “You could at least pretend to look happy.”

 

Cas frowned harder. “I am happy.”

 

Smiling, Dean prodded at the corners of Cas’ frown. “Sure you are. But thanks anyway.”

 

“Dean?” Cas started when they were out in the corridor.

 

“Yeah?” They were nearing the stairs where the two would have to split to go to their respective dormitories. At the foot there was a couple kissing. The two girls stopped when Dean and Cas approached and quickly scampered up the stairs.

 

Cas stopped him where the couple had stood moments before. He fidgeted with his sweater. His shoulders heaved like he was building up to saying something but then he deflated. “Good night.”

 

“Night, Cas. Thanks for helping again.” Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder.

 

“Always.”

 

They stood staring for a few moments. Dean was about to head off down the corridor when remembered something.

 

“Oh, hey, Cas.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’re staying here for Christmas again, right?”

 

Cas shrugged, nodding.

 

“Uh, Dad said in his last letter that he’d like you come with Sam and me. If that’s okay. I mean I know your parents have been abroad and all—”

 

“Yes,” Cas said. He shook his head. “I would like that very much.”

 

Dean grinned. “Good—great—awesome. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

 

The two parted ways. Dean felt oddly pleased—accomplishments have that effect. But it was more than that. Maybe it was the fact that he noticed it more now that Cas was gone. Like happiness after taste that made him want more. And it mostly had to do with Cas. Cas had that effect on him more than anything else, he’d begun to notice.

 

Dean had begun to look forward to their sessions. And now he was looking forward to something even better. 


End file.
